


Beware

by ba_rabby



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Annoyed Arthur is annoyed, Crack, Jabberwocky - Freeform, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-10 15:53:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1161667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ba_rabby/pseuds/ba_rabby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames and the Team (sans Cobb and Yusuf) extract from an artist who likes Lewis Carroll. The dream-scape is trippy to say the least. Arthur is annoyed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  
"T'was brillig and the slithy toves

did gyre and gimble through the wabe

All mimsy were the borogroves

and the momerathes outgrabe"

"Beware the Jabberwock my son," the mark said to Arthur. Arthur was currently dressed in a tunic and leggings with olde-time boots and was experiencing a low-grade tension across his forehead.

Regardless, he schooled his expression to one of earnestness and replied, "Of course, sir.”

The mark hobbled closer, "The jaws that bite,” he stomped his cane, “the claws that catch." He leaned in and whispered, "Beware the JubJub bird and shun the frumious Bandersnatch.”  The mark turned to gather something from just inside his cottage door. While his back was turned Arthur glanced skyward for strength. "Take your vorpal sword in hand boy,” he passed Arthur a leather sheath. The old man smirked, “Go on, have a look.” Arthur drew the sword and only years of dream work prepared him for the physics of the thing. Firstly there was no way that it came out of the scabbard, it was too long and it twisted oddly, and…it was actually moving, breathing almost.

Whatever. The sooner they got this done the better. He really was going to think long and hard before he took another one of Eames' job offers.

"Thank you, sir." Arthur replied as he belted the sword to his hips. "I will find the..." he allowed himself a sigh, "manxome foe."

Jackson Trudeau beamed, "I have faith that you can bring the flame-eyed beast down."

Arthur smiled, nodded, and set off away from the little hamlet all the while thinking that Eames was a bastard. Of course Arthur had to face the Jabberwock (whatever the hell it was). And he couldn’t just shoot the damned thing. No, he had to fight it with a sword.

Jackson Trudeau, the mark, was a prolific artist nearing the end of his life and whose family was composed of grabby little leeches (The latter were Eames' words. Arthur preferred to reserve judgment on the people who paid his wages). One such leech had hired the team to extract Trudeau’s paint formulation. The nature of Trudeau’s encaustics had launched the man to success in the 70’s when it became his trademark. No one had been able to reproduce the consistency of the wax base and the ethereal quality of the work it created.

Ariadne had taken the job because Eames had told her his plan. Arthur had joined the team because he liked working with Ariadne and because Eames had not told him his plan. At least he didn't tell him until it was too late to back out.

Jackson Trudeau was also a Lewis Carroll enthusiast. The bulk of his work was inspired by Alice's adventures in Wonderland and other odd things Carroll came up with during his migraine-induced deliria. Eames wanted to extract the information while allowing Trudeau to re-enact the one of Carroll’s pieces. This then brings us back to Arthur ambling through the tulgey wood in search of the Jabberwock.  

Arthur was pissed at Ariadne too, even if he was begrudgingly impressed by the beauty of the dreamscape. The landscape was inspired by Trudeau’s paintings and the place had a more psychedelic quality than Arthur preferred. Slithy toves spiraled up and down overhead like brightly coloured maple keys. The borogroves made contented little sighs as they swirled and drifted serpentine and chest-level.

The sword twitched against Arthur’s thigh. He ignored it. Then it spoke, and he nearly jumped out of his skin in his haste to unsheathe the thing "The fuck?"

"Don't drop...ow," the sword said as it fell into the grass. "Honestly, Arthur could you keep your head in the game?"

"Eames?"

"Yes, love?"

Arthur peered down at the sword, "Can you see me? Because I'm frowning at you. Just so you know."

"I can see your lovely scowly face, of course Arthur. Wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Since when can you forge inanimate objects?" Despite his annoyance, Arthur was again begrudgingly impressed.

"Technically, I'm an animate object,” Eames replied, “Since I'm conscious and whatnot. Do pick me up, the ground’s a bit damp."

Arthur picked the vorpal sword/Eames up gingerly and turned it/him over in his hand. "Where are your eyes?"

“It's a bit more like a fly's eyes. You know all those compound lenses and stuff."

"No.” He knew about insect eyes, but they still had two eyes and the sword had none.

"Oh. Well, I can see from all my surfaces, is the simple version. It's rather bizarre to be honest." The blade twisted and arched like it was stretching then Eames said, "Well. We should be off then. Have to find your manxome foe." Arthur glared at Eames and then began walking while swinging the sword vigorously.

***

The trek through the forest’s winding trail was oddly relaxing... in the beginning. Something called out from the canopy. "What was that?" Arthur was not creeped-out by the forest, it was just important to be on his toes.

"That could be the JubJub bird."

"The what?"

"Did you listen to the mark?"

"Right. Er. He said to beware it."

"Alright, just avoid it then."

"Oh-kay. And how do I avoid it if I can't see..." another screech pierced the silence, this time much closer.

Arthur held Eames aloft, ready to swing. "Arthur,” Eames whispered, “don't startle. But look up.”

Arthur lifted his gaze. On a branch overhanging the path sat a very large bird. It was a riot of colours and ridiculous plumage. It would have appeared comical if not for the intelligence in its gaze and the massive talons clutching its perch. Arthur swallowed.

Eames muttered, "Just keep your eye on it and get out of here." Arthur nodded. The creature’s gaze was fixed on them as Arthur circled around it to the other side of the path and backed away.

Once they were away, Arthur shook Eames, "What the hell? A JubJub bird? It sounds like it should be some roly-poly thing with big eyes. What the hell Eames?"

"Ar-Ar-Arthur. St-o-o-op." Eames caught his breath for a moment once Arthur had stopped shaking him, "It didn't do anything. Why are you so upset?"

"Because 'Jabberwock' sounds more ridiculous than JubJub bird and I have the feeling that beast is going to be horrifying."

Eames was silent for an uncomfortably long moment. "You really didn't read the poem?"

"No, Eames. I did not. I was coordinating with the chemist weeks to find something that wouldn’t put the mark in a coma by interacting with of all his old-people medication. And checking his scheduling." And shitty break-up was shitty, but Eames didn't have to know about that.

"Did you listen during the briefing?"

Arthur huffed, "It is difficult to take you seriously when you're prancing around like an Edwardian thespian."

"I was reciting the poem."

"You were being ridiculous."

"That was actually important, Arthur."

"I was busy. I don't know why you didn't just email it to me."

"I see." Eames cleared his throat...his voice-making part of the sword.

"'I see' what?"

"Erm nothing. Just keep sharp yeah."

Arthur glared at Eames, "The Jabberwocky is a terrible monster isn't it."

"Well, that was the point of the poem, darling."

"Fuck." Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose.

"It's not like you to skimp on research. I thought you knew. You seemed so reluctant to fight it."

"I was reluctant to fight it because it seemed like a stupid idea."

"Yes, you've said that quite a lot." Eames sniffed. "We should get going."

"Right." Arthur continued along the path.

Closer to their destination they ran into another sound. This time the sound was less of a terrifying squawk and more of an ominous snuffling. (Was it possible for snuffling to be ominous?)  Arthur paused mid-step, "Eames?"

"Hmm?"

"What is that?"

"Bandersnatch, probably. Just keep walking. It’ll leave us alone if you ignore it, I’m sure."

Arthur quickened his pace until the noise faded away.

"Eames?"

"Yes?"

"Are you...Are you mad at me?"

“Why would I be mad at you, Arthur?”

"Because I said your plan was stupid?"

Eames was silent for a moment before responding, "I thought it was rather a nice plan."

"It’s…” Arthur swallowed, “well, it’s a bit silly."

"Yes, of course it's silly, but that doesn't mean it's a bad plan."

Arthur stopped walking and frowned down at the sword, "Did I... did I... hurt your feelings?" Eames didn't say anything but he was giving the distinct impression of averting his gaze despite being a sword. "Jeez, man.” Arthur said, “I'm sorry. I didn't know you were so...so...invested in this." Arthur thought back to how animated Eames was about Ariadne's architecture in the planning and how secretive he'd been about his forge. Like it was some big reveal. He’d smiled a lot during the planning if Arthur actually stopped to think about it.

"Yes, well,” Eames said eventually, “you are rather hard to impress." Arthur felt his face heat up at that. He felt he should say something, but opted to continue through the forest instead.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One two, one two and through and through  
> The vorpal blade when "snicker snack"

They were silent as Arthur trekked to the centre of the maze: a grassy hillock rising above the forest with a single tree on it. Arthur had seen the tree during the practice runs with Ariadne. Within the mark's mind, it was entirely different. Its trunk was bulbous like a baobab and each branch was heavy with gourds that drummed together in the breeze.

Arthur ran his fingers over the smooth bark of the tum-tum tree. “You know,” he said, “if I wasn't waiting for some horrible monster, this would be kind of relaxing."

"Is that a compliment I hear?" For all that Eames’ words were teasing, his tone sounded hopeful.

"Maybe.” Arthur replied. He cleared his throat, “So what do I need to know about the Jabberwock?"

"Well, it's going to be big and probably dragon-like. It might shoot fire out of its eyes, depending on what Trudeau does with it."

"Right."

"Don't worry, darling. I'm sure you'll do fine."

"You're “sure”?"

"I am _certain_. There is no doubt in my mind that you will slay the beast." There was a pause. Eames said, "You know if you'd done the research..."

"Yes. I know. I'm sorry. I was dealing with some…” Arthur hesitated, "shit. Personal shit.”

“Oh. It wasn't a death or anything?”

Arthur snorted, "Nothing that severe. Just… some shit _.”_ Eames hummed in response.

The canopy in the distance shuddered. "Is that it?" Arthur shaded his eyes against the glare of the sun as he peered out over the woods.

"I don't know. Lift me up." Arthur held Eames aloft. “I can’t see through the trees, but it’s something big. Look sharp.”

The jostling of the trees traveled towards the tum-tum tree at alarming speed. It stopped abruptly.

“Down!” Eames cried out.

Arthur dropped and rolled. When he looked back at the tree, the spot where he had been standing was engulfed in flame. Arthur righted himself and came face to face with the Jabberwock. It was as Eames had described: dragon-like. The beast reared up from all fours and let loose a gout of fire from its eyes.

"Christ!" Arthur scrambled out of the fire’s path. For something so ungainly in appearance, the Jabberwock was on him in seconds. Its maw stretched wide, preparing to snap Arthur in half. Arthur swung Eames-the-sword and smashed into the beast’s massive incisors. The Jabberwock’s head snapped back. With something akin to a glower it swatted Arthur across the clearing.

Arthur staggered to his feet and turned to face his enemy whose bulbous eyes were bright as embers.  Its body was low to the ground as it charged Arthur again, but this time Eames was ready. As soon as the creature was in range Eames writhed and sliced off several of the Jabberwock’s fingers. It retreated with a howl.

The creature panted several paces away while it clutched its injured hand. Arthur was rooted to the spot unsure if he should push the attack or wait for it to come at them again. The Jabberwock gave them a calculating look before it flapped its wings and took to the air.

“Shit,” Arthur scrabbled towards the entrance of the clearing. He needed more cover, but the beast ignited the forest at the entrance. Arthur backpedaled to a halt, but lost his balance when Eames thrust upwards to deflect a bite from the Jabberwock. It dodged and its head swayed serpentine forcing Eames hack back and forth as the beast attempted to bite _him._

“Snicker snack snicker snack”, Eames yelled, “Bloody hell Arthur, move!”

Eames got lucky and slashed the Jabberwock across its face. While the beast was distracted Arthur darted towards the smoldering tum-tum tree. "Snicker Snack? Really?" he whispered.

"I thought it might help. Why didn't you read the poem?"

"How do you even kill this thing?"  

"Go for the neck and hack like you'll die a painful death otherwise."

“Ok,” he nodded, “Ok. We can do this.” When the Jabberwock appeared on their side of the tree Arthur ran towards it, leapt on its tail and scrambled up its back. Eames was able to block the Jabberwock’s attempts at biting them off.

Finally Arthur reached the Jabberwock’s neck and struck with all his might. Eames got to work. He writhed and slashed double time for every one of Arthur's swings. The Jabberwock screamed and bucked, blasting fire in all directions in its bid to dislodge them. But it was not enough.

They slashed through its neck, and the head fell away. Arthur jumped from the Jabberwock’s body as it crashed into the ground. When it did no more than spasm, Arthur toed it with his boot. "It isn't going to grow another head is it?"

"Darling, I wish you'd read the poem." Eames was panting.

"You said that already." Arthur stood with hands akimbo for a moment to catch his breath. "What do I do now?"

 "First we need to find the head. The information's in there and we need to take it back to the mark."

 "Right." Arthur scouted around for the Jabberwock's head. He found it at the edges of the clearing. Eames suggested feeling around inside the mouth for the information. Arthur glared for and groped behind the creature’s rodent-like teeth. Sure enough, there was a roll of paper inside the Jabberwock's mouth. The handwriting detailed a list of compounds that Arthur couldn’t make heads or tails of. He picked Eames up tilted him towards the ingredients list. After several moments Eames said, "Right, got it. Pocket it so I can get another look at it and lets take the head back to Trudeau." Arthur groaned.

  


The trip back to the mark’s hamlet was uneventful, though Arthur did get a glimpse of the Bandersnatch scurrying off the trail. He got the impression of pig and centipede and decided that he didn't want to think too hard about it.

When they returned to the village the mark was wary, "And has thou slain the Jabberwock?"

Arthur pulled the Jabberwock's head from the sack he'd slung over his shoulder and Jackson's face broke into a rapturous grin. He embraced a startled Arthur, "Oh frabjous day! Calloo, callay!" His projections swarmed the village square and Arthur braced for an attack. However, they seemed to have caught the mark’s celebratory mood and cheered when they saw the Jabberwock's head and paid little attention to Arthur.

Arthur backed away from the throng towards the edge of the village. He laid Eames-the-sword on the bank of a stream as he washed his hands and face in the icy water. After the water had cleared from his eyes he turned to find Eames-in-Eames-shape and covered from head to toe in gore.

"Really? You couldn't conjure some clothes?" Arthur said averting his gaze.

Eames looked down at himself, "Well, I need a wash first."

Arthur conceded Eames' point as he waded into the stream. By the time he was done, Arthur’s gaze had turned to the mark's celebration. With the exception of inception, it wasn't often that they were able to make their marks feel good while pulling off these dream heists.

"You planned for him to have a good time didn’t you?”

"Of course." Eames replied, "If your family is going to be grabby little leeches, you may as well enjoy being robbed by them."

Trudeau was dancing as much as his elderly legs could manage. "It was a pretty good plan"

Eames' head snapped up. "You don't mean that."

"Yeah I do. I've just…It’s been a shitty couple of weeks. Sorry for not taking this job seriously. I never took you for caring terribly about your mark’s well being."

Eames rubbed at his nose, "Well up there,” he glanced skyward, “it's just money right, just things? No invasion of the sanctity of one’s mind." He shifted, "Feel like I need to be a bit more responsible in here, is all."

Arthur glanced at Eames. His cheeks were ruddy from the cold water. He was a bit leaner than he was up above. "Huh," was all Arthur could think of to say. Eames grinned.

They waited out the remainder to the dream in companionable silence as the slithy toves and borogroves drifted overhead.

And the momerathes outgrabe. 


End file.
